


Til Death Do Us Part

by thefandomlifeforme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coffee Shops, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Don't let the tag scare you, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Heavy Angst, M/M, Motorcycles, PTSD, Racing, Torture, crash, kind of character death, lance wump, there will be blood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-08 18:38:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15936041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefandomlifeforme/pseuds/thefandomlifeforme
Summary: Its been three years since the devastating crash that took Shiro's arm, and Keith still wakes up sweating and screaming for his brother. His dreams are plagued but burning fire, and screams. But what stood out the most the night of the Accident were water blue eyes fill with anguish.Its been nearly 500 years since Lance died alone without any family. He was employed by Death to work as a reaper, but still looked for a everlasting peace. Racing brought him life again, but he still feels and alone. He's manages to forget about the family and friends he no longer has, until a tragic racing accident reminds him of the love he will never have.





	1. Ash Filled Dreams

Keith coughed to dispel the smoke trying to choke him as he ran across the track to the melting, twisted mess of metal that used to be Shiro's and Matt's motorcycles. Behind him he could hear sirens and the screams of his friends telling him to stay back, but Keith ignored them as he ran. The cyclist that had been behind Shiro were all trying to stop and avoid the crash site. However, Keith's mind wasn’t anywhere near his own safety, but on the crash was stuck on repeat in his mind. 

Keith, Pidge, and Allura had been on their feet, cheering and shouting as Shiro and Matt took the last turn of the track. Matt was right on Shiro's tail and it looked like he would pass the motorcyclist dubbed ‘Champion’ when a small spark ignited in Shiro's cycle and an explosion shook the arena and blinded the audience. Through horror struck eyes Keith and Pidge watched Matt unable to stop run into Shiro. 

Keith’s cheer had caught in his throat, and he heard Pidge and Alluras cheers turn to screams. For one sickening moment all he could do was stare before his body went on autopilot and he was racing towards the crash. He sensed Pidge being grabbed from following him, but all his focus was on the burning pile that seconds ago had been his brother and friend. 

Keith ignored the heat that was beginning to sting his eyes and skin and began to frantically search for his brother. His searching eyes spotted a crouched figure hovering over two forms crushed under motorcycle parts. 

“SHIRO,” he screamed as he began to run towards the silhouette. Hearing his cry the stranger stood up and turned to him. For a second Keith was stunned by the piercing blue eyes staring at him. They looked like they had seen the worst of humanity and survived, there were a million emotions shining through that were only accented by the tears streaming down his face. The blue eyed stranger stared into Keith's terrified eyes before he turned and ran away. 

The blaring of an alarm clock beat in time to Keiths racing heart as he jerked up in bed. His hands, scarred from burns, rubbed his face trying to get rid of the feeling those blue eyes always left in his dreams. It had been three years since ‘The Accident’ that took his brother, Shiro’s arm, and put his friend, Matt in a coma. Despite the time that had past Keith was still haunted by what he had seen that day. Shiro and Matt had been competing in what was just another race at Altean Raceway when Shiro’s motorcycle had gone up in flames that nearly took his and Matt’s life. 

Keith stumbled out of bed to his bathroom and threw water on his face trying to scrub away the memories. Looking into the mirror Keith took in the bags hanging under his eyes, sighed and grabbed a towel to dry the water still running down his face. 

Once he was done getting dressed in dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and his signature red jacket he walked out of his room to the kitchen. Shiro standing at the stove making scrambled eggs and humming, turned when he heard him enter. 

“Sleep well,” he asked as he dished up a plate. Keith hummed in response while sliding on to a bar stool. “What have you planned for the day” Shiro asked after handing Keith his plate and returning to the stove. 

“I have class this morning and Hunk, Pidge, and I were planning on meeting at Paladins Coffee House this afternoon before I have to go to work. What about you?” 

Shiro took a drink from his coffee cup before replying “I have work this morning and then therapy this afternoon. I thought I’d go visit Matt while I’m at the hospital.” Shiro’s voice faded at the end of the sentence and Keith couldn’t keep his eyes from looking at the prosthetic arm resting on the table before looking back at Shiro. 

“Sounds great I’ve been meaning to visit Matt too I’ll have to go in later this week.” Shiro seemed to relax slightly at Keith's casual response and they continued to eat in silence for a couple of minutes. 

“What are you meeting at Paladins for anyway?” Shiro asked as he stood from the table to begin cleaning the table. Keith hunched his shoulders and avoided his brothers eyes as he hesitantly replied, “Pidge and Hunk wanted some advice on a new bike their designing.” 

Shiro turned from the sink he had been placing the plates in, to look at Keith. “You aren’t planning on riding this are you? You know what you promised I don’t want to have to remind you.” Keith grit his teeth, “Yeah I know you’ve reminded me enough. I’m just going to look over their blueprints and giving any advice I can.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to nag you but I’ve seen that look in your eyes. You want to go back to racing and helping your friends make a suped up cycle isn’t the way to go if your going to keep your promise.”

“I’m not racing in, I’m not ever going to be the one to test drive the thing. Hunk has someone lined up for that, I’m just trying to help   
my friends make it as safe as possible! Why can’t you understand that! If I can help them then I’m going to, so no one has to go through what you did!” Keith’s voice had raised to a shout and Shiro had a struck look on his face. Keith blinked and took into Shiro grabbing his prosthetic arm with his real one. He was gripping it so tight that he was shaking.

Keith felt shame and guilt choke his throat, “I’m sorry Shiro, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just want to help my friends. If it really bothers you that much I can tell them I out. It’s really not that big of a deal.” Keith reached for his phone but a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Stop. It’s fine I’m sorry, I was overreacting, and your right, if you can help them and keep accidents from happening you should.” Shiros calm, soft voice broke through the silence that had been hanging in the kitchen since Keith’s outburst. 

“Are you sure? They’ll understand.” 

“Yeah it’s fine. Now you should probably leave before you miss your class.” Shiro said before letting go of Keith’s wrist to finish cleaning up the table. Keith nodded even though Shiro was no longer facing him, and returned to his room to collect his bookbag. He shrugged it on and headed to door but stopped as he reached for the handle. “Have you seen my gloves anywhere?” 

“Yeah there on the coffee table. You took them off last night while you were working on homework.”

“Thanks,” Keith turned and went back through the kitchen to their humble living room. Quickly swiping up the black gloves that had become a constant in his daily ensemble since The Accident he waved goodbye to his brother and headed out the door.


	2. Flirting and Frappes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has known Nyma for ages, but that doesn’t get him any free coffee or information out of the deal.

Lance sighed as he leaned on the shiny counter of the popular coffee shop. Paladins Coffee House was always bustling with college professors and students. It was the perfect blend of cozy and sleek that allowed you to hang out with friends or to focus on that essay that was due in a week.

 

“Hi, there handsome.” Lance looked up at the smiling face of the worker holding out his drink. The name Nyma was printed neatly on the tag pinned to her shirt and a steaming cup of coffee was held out to Lance.

 

“Well hey yourself beautiful. Do I know you? Because you look like my next girlfriend?” Lance said with a smirk as he took the cup being offered to him. Nyma laughed and shook her head “Lance that was even worse than the last one. Seriously, where do you get these? Google?”

 

“Ha, nice try but my charm comes naturally, thank you very much!”

 

“I’m not sure charm is the word I’d use to describe your terrible pick up lines.”

 

Lance looked down at the cup that was begging to make his hand uncomfortably warm. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Your know I do have an actual question for you. It’s about work.” Nyma’s life u died in her throat and her whole demeanor went from relaxed to tensed and on guard. “What about it? You haven't done anything you weren’t supposed to, have you?” Nyma looked at him suspiciously for a second before a sick look came over face. “You aren’t moving are you?”

 

Lance’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “No, no, no nothing like that. I was just wondering if you have had any assignments recently. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Nyma calmed down and instead began to look irritated. “Who said I was scared! What should I care if you move, and why are you asking about my assignments you know how rude that is.” Lance smiled at the annoyed look on her face. He knew he had worried her with the way he had been acting recently and that her anger was just to cover up that she cared. After all caring in their line of work was not encouraged it could cause serious problems. A problem like Lance himself was in.

 

The job he had asked Nyma about was not any normal job. They weren’t like the people bustling around them in their everyday lives. In fact they weren’t people at all, they were reapers charged with collecting the dead.  

 

“Yeah I know and I’m sorry but I haven't been contacted in a while and I was wondering if you had any idea why.”

 

Nyma began to turn away and looked at him suspiciously “I don’t have any idea about what your talking about. Everything has been fine for me. Maybe you're being given a break because of, well, you know.” Nyma looked away as she finished talking and began to absentmindedly wipe down the counter with a rag that had been hanging on her waist.

 

Lance scowled “That was three years ago I know I messed up, but I won’t do that again. Do you think I want to go to The Beyond. I learned my lesson, you know that and so does the office, so that can’t be the reason my assignments have been going down.” Lance to a drink of his coffee trying to swallow the rest of the words that were burning his tongue. He knew that Nyma meant well but every reaper that he met felt like it was their responsibility to remind him of the taboo that he had committed years ago. While three years was nothing to a reaper it still irritated him that it had to come up in nearly every conversation he had with his kind.

 

“Well I don’t know so don’t get all fussy with me.” Nyma said with an annoyed look in her eyes, “Now if you have nothing else to annoy me with I’m going to get back to work.” Lance sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Your right I’m sorry for bothering you. I’ll see you later and tell Hunk hi for me and that I’ll see him later.” Lance turned with a small wave and blinding smile that gave no hint to the irritation still weighing on his mind.

 

“Yeah no problem Lance. Stay out of trouble,” Nyma turned and began to help the next tired college student in line.

 

Lance pushed the coffee shop door open, bells tinkling as he stepped into the sunshine. “Me, in trouble, never!” he said to himself before turning and continuing down the sidewalk. ‘Well, if I can’t get anything out of her I guess I’ll just have to ask the boss.’ No matter how many times he had talked to his employer the queasy feeling never left his stomach. ‘Better suck it up because you’ll never get answers if you don’t face him.’ Lance turned down a quiet alley, littered with trash. He didn’t stop until he spotted the small sigle that would take him to his boss. “Hi, Death how is business lately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing. The next chapter is super angsty, so put your seatbelts on kids because it’s about to get rough.


	3. Death isn’t the End (Or Very Sociable)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance didn’t lose everything all at once. It took 21 years before the world would manage to leave him completely alone and unloved. However, even after he would die he would not find peace.

Tears streaked down the dirt coating the face of the hunched form of a young man. He was kneeling, his body bent over as if holding someone dear in his arms and shielding them from harm. Violent sobs shook his form so forcibly that it seemed he would be torn apart. The clothes clinging to his skinny, malnourished frame were covered in blood, making it impossible to tell what their original color had been. The ribs sketching his skin and the scars littering his back showed the signs of a life spent in slavery with never enough food. 

His fist slammed into the floor with a strength that beguiled the condition of his body. A hysterical scream ripped from his throat as grief continued to consume him. A man stood only a few feet away going unnoticed the young man. 

“Enough.”

The word slipped past the man's lips without any emotion. It wasn't whispered or shouted. There was no anger in his tone or sympathy or irritation or kindness. It wasn’t a command, question, or suggestion. It was so void of anything remotely human that the air seemed to freeze and the boys sobbs quieted. 

Large blue eyes shining with unshed tears turned up to look at the mans face. “¿Quién eres tú?” he said in a shaky voice rough with the abuse from his screams. “¿Dónde estoy?”

“I don’t have a name really, I’m nobody, but most like to associate me with the term death. So, if you wish you may call me that. As for where you are at this is the Bridge. It’s where souls like you come once they’ve passed.” 

The young man continued to stare at him with furrowed brows, questions clouding his eyes. He began to look past the man to take in the room or ‘The Bridge’ as the stranger had called it. There was nothing particularly special about the room. It was all white, smooth surfaces including the floor and ceiling. However, it was like nothing the boy had ever seen. He had never been in a room that wasn’t covered in dirt or dust. He had grown up in poverty and the lack of suffocating noises and smells were more disorientating than if he had been dropped into a busy city street. The only color in the room was the single door placed directly behind the darkly clad man and the blood that had been smeared on the floor from the boy’s clothes and pounding fist. When his eyes landed on the bright scarlet covering him, the breath in his lungs hitched and a choking noise rose in his throat. He began to look around frantically, and tried to struggle to his feet on the slippery floor.

“¿Qué tú tiene hecho con Cadence? Donde es mi hermanita?” Once he gained his footing on wobbly legs he stumbled towards the man in front of him. Grabbing the black lapels of the man's coat he tightened his grip, a manic look coming into his eyes. “¿Donde es ella?” 

“She is gone, she has died and so have you. You will never be able to see her again.” These life shattering words were said with the same lack of emotion as before. There was nothing to suggest that this being cared or was bothered that these words ripped through the boy holding on to his shirt front. No longer able to hold himself up he folded in on himself, collapsing on the cool white floor. The words were ringing in his ears leaving him numb to the pain in his body. All he could feel was the pain of his heart shattering.

“¡No! ¡Eso no poder ser! ¡Llevar su de vuelta! Ella es todo yo tengo. Yo hacerlo que sea que desees. Por favor, yo necesita mi hermanita. Por favor!” The desperation and despair in his voice would have moved the hardest hearts to tears but the man's expression remained unchanged. “There is nothing you can do. She is gone, and it's time to move on. She is at rest now and you should be happy for her.” 

The man’s words were like salt being rubbed to a fresh wound. They burned and brought more pain to the already broken boy. The young man closed his eyes as silent tears continued to fall down his face before finally slowing and stopped altogether. Shaking, he took a large breath to steady himself and looked back up to the stoney eyes of the man that had shattered his world.

Seeing the more composed look in the boy’s eyes, the man continued his explanation. “Good, now we can continue. I know you have many questions, but if you just remain silent everything will be explained.” The young man nodded at the command as he continued to kneel at Death’s feet. “First I would like to review the manner of your death. This will help explain the reason for you being on the Bridge and what its purpose is.” A piece of paper appeared in the man's hand from nowhere causing the boy to blink in surprise, but he kept from saying anything. He knew he wouldn’t get answers if he continued to interrupt. 

Looking at the paper Death continued, “Lance McClain you were born in Cuba year 1520, the eldest son of Rosá and Ignacio McClain. Your mother died in 1528 while giving birth to your younger sister, Cadence. Does everything seem to be in order so far?” Death looked down at the boy’s face where new tears had began to fall silently. “Si,” he whispered. The memories only adding to the weight on his grief ridden shoulders. “Your father died 1532 caught in the crossfires of a slave rebellion. You, Lance, died the 10th of August, 1540. You were shot through the back in the heart.” Once he had finished giving the details of Lance’s death the paper disappeared, as suddenly as it had appeared. “You were caught up in a second rebellion similar to the one that took your father’s life. However, your death was special in a way that has brought us to the place we are now.” Turning he gestured to the door standing behind him. “ You died protecting your sister in the chaos of the rebellion. Despite your efforts she passed away from multiple gunshot wounds. She passed seconds before you yourself were killed. Because of the sacrifice you made to save your sister, I am able to offer the role of reaper.” 

Lance’s head was spinning and he felt sick as the image of his sister’s laughing eyes flashed through his mind. Death’s words were running through his mind as he struggled to make sense of what was happening to him. 

“Only those who die because of sacrifice to others but without anyone living to remember you are allowed to become reapers. Because your parents and sister died before you, you are now able to join my ranks of workers, or continue on. This door leads to The Beyond. It is where reapers go to rest. If you decide to move on, you will be at rest. It will be like you didn’t exist, since there is no one to remember you in their minds or hearts.” The idea that his life had meant nothing to anyone in the world hurt the young man like a jab to the stomach and he looked to the man for the alternative.

“¿Qué más?”

“Or you can become a reaper. A being that collects the memories and lives of the dead. If you chose this, you will exist for as long as you want or until you decide to move on. You will always have the option of entering the Beyond, for existing can be exhausting. What do you choose Lance? This is the time to decide.” Lance bowed his head. It was all too much too fast but he had already made up his mind. Despite the pain he had endured the idea of resting and being forgotten scared him more that death. Flashes of his father's steady face, mother’s work worn hands, and his little sisters tinkling laugh ran through his head. Even is there was no one to remember him, he wouldn’t let their memory fade from his mind. He would keep them alive in himself. 

“Yo unió tu.” 

Death nodded, “Very well. Lance McClain, I name you a reaper under my employment to do as I will without question, never breaking the sacred laws of our kind. Now rise, more will be explained later.” 

Lance scowled at the lack of answers, but still rose to his feet as asked. The blood drying on his clothes clung to his skin, making him grimace. 

“Where are we going now?” His eyes widened as words to a language he had never learned came easily from his mouth. “What was that? How am I talking like you?!” Lance grabbed at his throat. “How did I understand you before anyway? What's going on?!” His hands clenched tighter around his throat, and his brows furrowed as he realized he had understood Death even though he had never heard the language before.

“Calm down. Now that you are a reaper you can speak all languages, but that will be explained more later.” Death held out his hand to the confused Cuban. “Now let us go we have wasted enough time here.” 

Lance stared at the hand being extended to him. He knew once he took it his life (or death he thought) would never be the same. Looking up to the man’s face he slowly extended his hand. As his fingers closed around the cold hands that had torn down his whole world he couldn't help but think about all he had lost and wonder about what he might gain in the nearing future.

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Death looked like he always did. Like a void or vacuum. Empty, almost like he wasn’t solid. He sat at his desk, a large dark cherry wood with so many intricate carvings covering its surface that you could spend days staring at its surface. Two leather chairs sat in front of the desk. The whole set up made it feel like a lawyers or principals office. However, the sense of wrongness that came from Death prevented anyone from relaxing. 

Death looked up as Lance entered ignoring his attempt at humor.  
“What brings you here? I didn’t call you and according to your recent reports you haven't had any issues with your last few collections.”

Lance huffed, puffing his cheeks out. “Yeah but that’s the issue. My ‘recent’ reports are from a week ago. I’ve never been this long without an assignment.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving Death a pointed look. What he had said wasn’t completely true. There had been an incident three years ago that had kept him from work for a month. Lance had only been allowed back into the field with the promise from Death that the next time he committed the taboo he would be sent to the Beyond. Besides this incident, this was the longest the reaper had been with out work in the last 458 years.

“Work has been as dead as me lately, so what gives? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Lance asked nervously. 

“No, you have not done anything wrong I’ve simply been giving assignments to other Reapers in the area.”

The Cuban looked at him quizzically. “How many others are there? I know Nyma, but there can’t be so many that there hasn’t been work for me in a week.”

Death picked up another piece of paper that had appeared from nowhere. “I can’t give you names, but it looks there are currently five Reapers in the area. Including Nyma and yourself.” Lance nodded but the question hadn't left his gaze. Five was a large number for a town this size. He didn’t try to get their names, because while there was nothing wrong with knowing and communicating with other reapers it was still discouraged. Because of the chance on accidentally revealing yourself to a civilian. If you were on an assignment and spotted by a reaper there was nothing wrong with approaching them once they were done working. 

After all, that’s how Lance had met Nyma. He’d been at Paladins when he saw her collecting an elderly heart attack victim. He had approached her later and they had formed an unlikely friendship. 

“Can I at least ask why there are so many in the area?”

“Certainly, but I don’t really have an answer. They were in the area and have decided to stay. For how long I don’t know.”

Lance sighed. It had always been hard to get answers from his boss, but it couldn't be helped.

“Well if I didn’t do anything wrong then I guess I’ll be on my way. Don’t change before I see you next.” This last statement was said with silent chuckle. Death hadn’t changed in all the years Lance had known him and he doubted he ever would, or even could for that matter. 

Death simple nodded and turned his head back down to his desk clearly dismissing the reaper. Lance turned and walked back through the wall to the alley way. ‘Well might as well go practice with Blue. There’s an upcoming race and our turns could be sharper. Besides, if Hunk convinces his friends to let me help them with their little pet project I’ll need to be at the top of my game.’ Mind made up he turned and headed to Altean Raceways. His long forgotten coffee cup still held in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry for the angst. Hope you enjoyed it and my Spanish. If you see a mistake I’d love to know and correct it.


	4. Coffee and Catching Up

Keith stepped into the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the Paladins Coffee House, and took a deep breath, letting the comforting scent of coffee ease some of the tension in his shoulders. Scanning the room Keith spotted a mop of light brown hair peeking over the edge of a booth. Grinning Keith silently began crossing the room til he was right behind the unsuspecting figure. 

“WHAT’S UP PIDGE!” 

Pidge, screamed and jumped a foot in the air, nearly dropping the laptop precariously perched on her knees.

“WHAT THE HELL KEITH! I could have dropped my laptop, are you insane! All my plans are on this! IF YOU EVER cause me to break this thing they will NEVER find the body!”

Pidge ended her tirade with her arms failing in the air, her chest heaving. Keith was barely standing he was laughing so hard. “Yeah, yeah laugh now emo boy, because you won’t be laughing when I get back at you.” Pidge huffed and got a more secure grip on her laptop.  
“Where have you been anyway? We agreed to meet ar 1. Your a half hour late.” 

“Yeah I’m sorry about that class lasted longer than usual. Prof. Coran wouldn’t stop talking.” Keith replied having finally gotten himself under control. “But why are you yelling a me? I don’t see Hunk either, and he’s always on time.” He glanced around looking for his rotund friend. Hunk was always exactly on time for everything he did. The Samoan boy was terrified of ever showing up late for anything, no matter what it was. 

“Oh, he’s here. He’s just in the back talking to Shay.” Pidge winked at Keith after mentioning the Paladins famous baker and Hunk’s crush. Everyone could see that they liked each other but both were so shy that Keith and Pidge had a bet to see who confess first. Pidge was betting on Hunk, but Keith had decided to take a chance on Shay. 

“Well that explains why he’s not out here.” Just as Keith finished talking the subject of their discussion walked through the swinging doors and waved his friends.

Hunk’s eyes were shining as he approached their booth. “Hey guys! Keith you finally made it! Have you ordered anything yet?” 

“How’s Shay?” Pidge asked before Keith could reply. Hunk’s smile got even brighter and a light blush darken his cheeks. “Oh she’s great! You should have tried the new raspberry cream cheese rolls she’s working on. It’s her first time making them so she has a few things she wants to change, but they were AMAZING!!!” Hunk sighed, “I don’t know how she does it. She’s so smart and talented.” 

“Are you sure that the rolls were the only thing that’s amazing.” Pidge asked with a knowing smirk on her face. “Maybe you should tell her how you feel and ask her out.” 

“What?! No, no, no we’re just friends. Besides I’m sure doesn’t feel that way about me.” 

Keith snorted at his friend, “Hunk anyone can see that she likes you. I mean do you know anyone else who she lets try her food or asks for advice?” 

Before Hunk could reply they were interrupted by one of the workers holding some menus.

“Hi guys! Can I get you anything?” She asked while passing out their menus. Looking relieved to finally have a distraction Hunk smiled widely. 

“Hey Nyma! I’ll have my usual. How’s your shift going?” 

His coworker groaned and rolled her eyes. “Slowly. I can’t wait for you to take over later. Oh, Lance came in earlier and said to tell you hi.” 

“Who’s Lance?” Pidge asked finally looking up from her computer still nestled in her lap. 

“He’s my friend, the one I was talking about earlier. I’ve talked to him about our project and he’s agree to do some test drives with if you guys are willing. He has all the right licensing and experience we need.” 

“I’d like to meet him before deciding anything, but he sounds qualified.” Pidge said turning back to the work on her laptop. 

“I agree,” the words left a bitter taste in Keiths mouth. If he had his way he would be the one testing out their bike, but he couldn’t because he had promised Shiro he would never ride or race again. 

Hunk grinned. “Awesome! You’ll love him I promise.” 

“I seriously doubt that.” Keith thought but kept anything from showing on his face. Taking the coffee Nyma was now offering him Keith wondered “He must be a pretty great for you to praise him so highly.” 

“Yeah he is, I mean he can be a little much sometimes, but he always means well.” Turning to Nyma Hunk said, “this is on me Nyma.” 

“No, Hunk you don’t have to do that.” Keith protested but Hunk just waved his hand, “It’s fine besides I get an employee discount.” 

“Can we please get to work now. We could be done if someone hadn’t been late,” Pidge sent a pointed look to Keith, who just shrugged.

“Hey it wasn’t my fault, but your right let’s get to work.”


	5. Broken Promises

The sky had darkened with dark, heavy clouds by the time Keith was able to leave Paladins. His mind was tired from listening to Hunk and Pidge talking about equations and facilitators he could barely follow. His body, however, was wired and restless from sitting still for hours and the coffee he had downed. Checking the time on his clock he decided he had time to go work off some energy before meeting Shiro later for dinner. 

As Keith continued down the street the shops that were bustling with customers were slowly replaced by shady looking homes and apartment buildings. After nearly 10 minutes of walking he stopped in front of a neglected looking garage. The paint was chipped and peeling and the roof looked like it was saging slightly, but its structure was secure and it suited Keith’s purposes.

Fishing a key out of his pocket Keith hurried to open the side door as  icey drops of rain began to fall.

Reaching for the light switch on the wall he flipped it and lights flickered to life revealing tools and parts strewn around the small space. The clutter did it little to distract from the shining motorcycle in the center of the room. It didn’t take expert to see how well loved and cared for the vehicle was. Even with several parts missing you could see that it was a craft meant for speed and not for the faint of heart.  

Keith couldn’t help the feels of both pride and shame that always came when ever he worked on his bike. He had been reminded just this morning of the promise he had made to Shiro and he couldn’t think about how he had meant to keep that promise and what had caused his conviction to fall.

* * *

 

 _Shiro was so pale it almost seemed hard to see him against the stark white hospital sheets. He was weak and suffering more than Keith could imagine. Shiro had barely spoken a word since his surgery three days ago and Keith couldn’t blame him for the silence. The operation had taken what had remained of his arm and left him with nothing but a useless stump and months of physical and mental rehab to go through._  

 _Keith’s_ _eyes were sore and bloodshot from sleepless nights and his throat still ached from the smoke he had had to get through to reach his brother. His hands were also still recovering. They were still wrapped in bandages to help keep the burned flesh safe but the doctor had already informed Keith that they would scare._  

_Distracted by the memory of the crash Keith wasn’t expecting his aching hand to suddenly be grabbed by Shiro. He couldn’t help his slight cry of pain but Shiro’s painful grip did not slacken._

  _“Promise me,” Shiro’s voice was rough and broken and sounded nothing like the brother Keith loved and looked up tp. “Promise me that you won’t ride or race again. It’s not worth the risk. Promise me.” Shiro’s voice shook with desperation and it took Keith several minutes before he was able to work past the lump in his own throat. Ignoring the tears running down his face and the pain still stinging his hand, Keith tried to shake the memories of Shiro’s face surrounded by fire, screams in the distance, and ocean blue eyes._

  _“I promise.” The words came without any hesitation, and he couldn’t imagine ever climbing on a bike again the very idea making him feel sick._

  _And he had kept that promise. For months he hadn’t even thought of riding a bike. He had thought he was safe and would never ride again._

  _It hadn’t been a special day or anything unusual, but when Keith heard the steady rumble and purr of motorcycles as he was leaving Paladins. He couldn’t help remember the euphoria that had always come sitting low on his bike with handles gripped tight in his hands as the world disappeared and the road stretched out in front of him._

  _After that Keith did all he could to forget and move on, but the longer he resisted the stronger the urge to drive again became. Finally, he decided that if he could ust ride one more time- get it out of his system- that he would be fine and could move on._

  _He was wrong._

  _Once he started riding again he craved it more than ever. When he was riding he was free from the thought of Shiro and Matt in the hospital. Shiro struggling with PTSD and learning to navigate the world without an arm, and Matt who still hadn’t woken up yet. With the asphalt flowing beneath him he could forget and fire and flames, and the guilt and remorse in a stranger's eyes. But as soon as he’d hop off his bike shame would crush him and he’d promise himself ‘Never Again’.   But no matter how terrible he felt he would always find himself back on a bike cruising along the coast line._

* * *

 Keith paused in his work when his phone began to ring. Wiping his hands on the already greased stained rag tied to his belt he checked the caller ID. Seeing Shiro’s name flashing on the screen Keith swore and swiped to answer.

“Hey Shiro, what do you need? Is there something wrong?”

“I think I should be asking you that Keith. Where are you at? You said you would be home hours ago.”

Keith checked his phone screen and groaned at how late it had gotten. “Sorry Shiro I got distracted and lost track of time, but I’ll be home soon.”

“Well where are you at? I can pick you up. I’m not comfortable with you walking home this late at night.”

“Um,” Keith looked around at his greased smeared hands and the cycle parts scattered around, “It’s fine really. It won’t take me long to get home.” Trying to put his tools away as quickly as possible Keith prayed Shiro wouldn’t insist on picking him up.

Shiro sounded sceptical but he dropped the idea, “Just check in when you get home, alright? See you soon.”

Keith had managed to get his key out of pocket but was struggling to get the door locked with only one hand. “Yeah, yeah thanks Shiro, sorry for forgetting dinner.”

“Just try not to stay out so late next time, okay.”

“Yeah okay.”

“Alright, stay safe, bye.”

 “Bye,” Keith sighed and shoved his phone in his pocket. As he began jogging to make up for lost time he checked the knife hidden in his jacket pocket. Shiro really didn't need to worry about Keith, but he had been slightly over protective since the accident.  

 

* * *

 

The camera lens zoomed in on the young man fumbling to with his keys, and holding his phone to his ear. The man holding the lens couldn’t make out what was being said but that wasn’t the kind of intell he was being paid to gather. His finger twitched and the camera snapped collecting several photos of not only the boy but the garage and surrounding area highlighting the hiding spots and covered areas someone could easily hide undetected. Once the boy finally managed to close the garage door and take off running down the road, the man put the camera away with practiced, methodical movements. Quickly checking the memory card, pocketed it, and swinging the camera bag over his shoulder emerged from the shaded area he was sheltered in. With calm, casual strides he made his way through the streets. Neglenced houses sagged beside him raised voices and cries slowly being replaced by the shushing or waves and the groan of massive storage sheds.

 Outside of one of the sheds leaned a man, the smoke from his cigar clouded around his face blurring the sharp points of his chin and nose. Beside him leaned a sleek black bike that gleamed purple when the dim light from the flickering street light struck it.

 The camera man slowed and slouched beside the dark figure, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own cigarette. With a quite click and spark his face glowed and soon a cloud of his own smoke floating into the night air.

 “Did you find him?”

 The cameraman turned to the biker, “Course I did. Kid wasn’t really trying to hide, he doesn’t even realize the enemies he’s made.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out the precious memory card, his cigarette clenched tightly in his teeth. “He went to that coffee house downtown, hung out with same friends, looked like they were working on some type of project. I got a shot of the blueprints they were working on, looked like some type of bike. Looked fast.”

 The man leaning beside him growled, voice low in his throat. “There isn’t a bike, car, or plane fast enough to escape the Galra.”

 Reaching out he took the flash drive dangling in the in the other man’s careless fingers. “Here’s your pay and make sure to keep communications open. We may have some more work for you soon. There’s someone else who’s caught Zarkon’s eye.”

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOO, this is my first fic. I've been a member of the Voltron fandom for a while, and theres nothing I love more than reading a good fic. I was super inspired by a writing prompts a while ago and I couldn't get it out of my head. To who ever may read this I hope you enjoy it. I would love any positive feedback you may have. Please don't hate, if you don't like it don't read it. That doesn't mean I won't take corrections because I really do want to improve. Enjoy!


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